


Let Yourself Rest

by cyclopsgirl



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Dom/sub, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Takes a Bath, I'm still learning the tag system sorry, Light Dom/sub, Multi, No beta we die like stregobor should have, Non-Sexual Submission, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyclopsgirl/pseuds/cyclopsgirl
Summary: As winter drew near, Geralt found himself taking one last contract before the snow began to fall. It was supposed to be an easy hunt just to make sure he had some coin in case of emergencies. But Geralt quickly found out this contract was anything but.Jaskier and Yennefer hoped to help him end the day on a better note.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Kudos: 20





	Let Yourself Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this isn't anything good! I was mainly working on this to pass time at work, and I've never really posted anything here either. But! I sorta liked how this turned out even if I've never written anything vaguely close to smut. So here we are now! Hopefully it's at least passable because I'm only here to further my sub geralt agenda.
> 
> (This also kind of went with some art I've been making but I haven't finished it by the time I'm posting this so maybe I'll post a link to it here once it gets finished who knows)

It was turning out to be a shit day.

It had started with the contract. It promised a good amount of coin, which was why Geralt was so keen on taking it this late into the fall. The three of them, Geralt, Yennefer and Jaskier, were all on their way to their respective destinations before winter came, and decided that it would be best to travel together until they reached the crossroads. The air was getting colder as each day passed, and while they were still on schedule, Geralt still hoped there wouldn’t be an early snow this year.

The three of them stopped in the last town before the crossroads, and were noticeably short on coin. With two extra traveling companions, who both particularly would prefer a night in a terrible inn as opposed to another night camping, his already light coin bag was being stretched thin. That’s why Geralt had taken a contract to get rid of what the locals called a “shrieker”. As he investigated the remains of the poor townsman who tried to fight this thing, he quickly found it wasn’t just a “shrieker”, but a cockatrice. And a damn big one at that. But Geralt needed the coin, and while it wasn’t the exact amount he would normally ask for a cockatrice, any coin was better than none at this point.

Except, it wasn’t  _ just _ a cockatrice. Contracts like these are never this simple. As Geralt finally forced his silver sword into the head of the cockatrice, he realized he wasn’t done with the contract yet. Still bloodied and closely reaching a deadly level of toxicity, a second cockatrice swooped down and got a proper chunk of flesh taken out of his shoulder. Geralt only had a second to chastise himself for letting his guard down before he dodged the second attack as the beast landed. He sighed. Of course one fucking cockatrice would be too easy.

By the time he finally slew the second beast, Geralt was covered in blood, both his and the monster’s. Dirt mixed in with sweat and caked itself onto any part of his body that it could get to. To say he looked disgusting would be an understatement. While he was never the most cleanly of Witchers, Geralt felt rancid. As he gathered the proof of his kill and strapped the two heads onto Roach’s saddle, he made a note to demand more pay. A witcher never kills two for the price of one. Especially something as nasty as these bastards.

The townsman who hired him for the contract ended up being almost as unpleasant as the cockatrice were. When Geralt had shown him proof of two cockatrices, possibly a mated pair Geralt noted to himself, the townsman had accused him of trying to swindle him out of more coin. He tried to even claim that Geralt could have easily had a spare cockatrice head on him for moments like these. Geralt felt almost too tired to argue, but still pressed to be paid properly. He would not let some villager who most certainly would have sold his wife for a shiny coin try to bully him into being underpaid. In the end, the townsman finally agreed to paying him the full amount for one beast, plus half of the normal rate for the second, but only after what seemed like the whole town came to investigate the commotion. Sometimes public humiliation worked wonders, Geralt thought.

So, as he trudged back to the inn the three of them were staying at, still covered in gore and grizzle, Geralt couldn’t help but think of how else the day could go wrong. With his luck, Jaskier and Yennefer had probably gotten themselves tossed out, leaving him with only the freezing river to clean himself off in.

But as he walked through the door of the inn, there was something in the air that calmed him slightly. He had an inclination that it was Yennefer’s doing, but he couldn’t dwell on it as the owner of the inn called for him from behind the bar.

“Witcher! Those two you were roomin’ with asked to fetch you a warm bath as soon as you got here. Didn’t know when you were comin’, so it’ll take a time to get it set up if you’d still want it.”

Geralt looked at the man for a second, slightly surprised at what he was saying. Did he really say that, or did Geralt have more toxicity in his blood than he originally thought? But the promise of a bath, whether it was already paid for or not, was too good to pass up. Geralt nodded and the Innkeeper called for a thin boy to get the water ready. Geralt guessed that it was possibly his son, but he didn’t dwell on the thought very long. The boy, nearly half Geralt’s height, stood in front of him and motioned him to where the inn kept their larger tub.

The room was lit by a few candles already covered and misshapen by melted wax dripping on all sides, and in the center was a large tub waiting to be filled. It looked like it would fit Geralt properly, which was much harder to find than most would think. Geralt was pleasantly surprised.

Before the witcher could think any longer, the boy finally spoke up.

“It will take a moment to fill the bath, but if you’d like to undress you can start behind that screen, um, sir.” He was clearly still new to helping his father like this, Geralt could tell that much. So Geralt, trying to look as neutral as he could in front of him, nodded and made his way behind the screen. He didn’t start undressing until he heard the boy leave the room to fetch the warm water from wherever the Innkeeper kept it. The sight of a witcher covered head to toe in gore must have been enough of a sight to scare the poor lad half to death, Geralt thought. It wasn’t anything new, but he still caught himself taking note of when it did happen.

By the time the boy said that the bath was ready, Geralt was already trying to scrape some of the fresher bits off of his arms. The boy mentioned that there were towels and soap, a bit of a surprise from a small inn like this, for the Witcher to use, and that if he needed more water to just knock on the door. The boy would be waiting outside in case he was needed. Geralt thanked him and watched as he flitted out of the room.

Geralt was able to slide into the bath easily. He always enjoyed a good long soak, no matter how much his brothers made fun of him for it. If he was going to pay the extra coin to have a bath, he was going to savor every second of it, he thought. As he began to wash the mud and guts off of his person, Geralt felt a familiar scent waft through the air.

Lilac and gooseberries. Yen.

In the back of his head, he felt a soothing, gentle feeling as a disembodied voice whispered in his ear.

“Make sure you clean yourself up for us, darling.”

Geralt knew what her words ment. He had a feeling her of all people would have planned something like this. If they were this close to each other, of course she would have been keeping tabs on him throughout his hunt. Not out of worry, but just to know. She liked knowing where her belongings were at all times.

Geralt felt goosebumps start to form on the back of his neck at the thought of what her and Jaskier might have planned. He knew how it would start at least. He would have to make a decision before anything.

The baths were always how they started nights like this. It was a way for Geralt to start to let go of his worries about the day. If he could focus on the simple task of making sure he was clean, then what happened throughout the day would start to melt away much easier. It also gave him a chance to decide if this was what he wanted tonight. In the beginning, he was hesitant to allow himself to slip away like this, even just a little. It made him feel vulnerable in a way that he hadn’t let himself feel since he was young and more naive. Many nights, he had just simply washed himself and returned to his partners the same as he left. It took what he was sure to be ages before he understood that no matter how vulnerable he felt during these nights, Jaskier and Yennefer would never take advantage of him.

He finished scrubbing his arms and torso with the soap wrapped around a rag. It made his skin feel soft and smooth underneath the warm water, which was slowly undoing any aches his muscles carried from today. He started to feel himself slowly drift, the far edges of his mind starting to blur and become fuzzy. He knew he couldn’t let himself drop without Yennefer or Jaskier there, but he enjoyed the light floatiness that came with the beginning all the same.

A thought slowly drifted in as he finished with his legs. He needed to wash his hair. Jaskier liked to card his fingers through his long hair, even when they were simply lounging together. Geralt loved the feeling of Jaskier’s soft, gilded brush, gently working out any knots and smoothing his hair until it was silky to the touch. Jaskier had bought the brush the last time they were in Oxenfurt together. The stall was obviously meant for women, and men who needed to appease their scorned lovers, but Geralt couldn’t help but slow his gait as he saw the brush on display. The ornate, flowery patterns on the back were dusted with gold that went all the way down to the handle. Jaskier noticed his lover’s stare and bought it for him right there. It was much more than what Jaskier had planned to spend that day, but whenever Geralt had tried to pay him back for it he would always smile and say that “It’s a gift, Geralt. I bought it because you deserve it.” That night, Jaskier had gently brushed Geralt’s hair, showering him in compliments and soft words until Geralt had unknowingly drifted off to sleep with his head in Jaskier’s lap. Geralt always kept the brush on him after that night.

The last chunk of mud and blood finally came out of his already well knotted hair as he came back to the present. The water was slowly losing its heat, and while he could easily heat it back up with a proper shot of Igni and soak for longer, he knew he shouldn’t keep his partners waiting. He toweled off and slipped into a change of clothes that the boy seemed to bring by while Geralt was lost in thought. It was his night clothes, so he suspected that either Jaskier or Yennefer had come down during his soak and made sure he was being looked after. A slight warmth began to bloom in his chest at the thought, whether it actually happened or not. It took him some time to come to terms with what he wanted from his loves. He was never the most introspective person before they came into his life, but being around them made some things easier to put to words.

The both of them had insisted that before they went any further in their relationship, everyone would have to know what they wanted from it. Jaskier and Yennefer easily stated their desires. They wanted to take care of each other, and in turn, be taken care of. Geralt had a feeling something poetic would come from Jaskier, but it was surprising to hear something so soft come from Yennefer. She confessed that it was also hard for her to admit it at first, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The feeling of seeing flowers, close to dying, being brought back with proper care filled her with a sense of pride. She wanted the same for her lovers. To take care of them in the ways they needed.

Geralt took longer to finally voice what he needed. He felt silly, like a small boy again, but Jaskier and Yennefer were both gentle with him. That’s what he wanted. For someone to be gentle with him. When he finally voiced it, it surprised him. He truly never thought he’d find the words for what he felt. But Jaskier and Yennefer just looked at him tenderly. It was slow in the beginning, Jaskier was adamant about that, citing many scenarios he found himself in the middle of that turned the whole relationship sour. None of them wanted that for themselves. But the slow pace was worth it.

As Geralt slowly padded up the stairs, he somehow knew which room to go to without having to ask. Yennefer must have put the information into his head, Geralt thought briefly. He felt a small wave of relief wash over him, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to ask with how floaty his head was starting to feel. He always enjoyed this part. Where he was just edging against the brink of dropping, but still had to make his way to whoever was taking care of him. In a small way, it made it easier to accept the care he was receiving. As if this small task had somehow earned him the right to be preened over all night. It was silly, Geralt knew, but it made things simpler for him.

When Geralt opened the door, he was hit with two scents he knew by heart, perfectly mixing and blending in a way that was almost intoxicating. Lavender, chamomile, gooseberries and buttercups. It was faint enough that a normal human couldn’t smell it, especially when surrounded by a litany of other foul smelling odors, but Geralt knew he could pick out either one of their scents anywhere.

Jaskier and Yennefer were sitting next to each other, facing the warm fire in the two modest chairs the inn provided with a stool to match, tossed to the side. Either Geralt was quiet enough for them to not notice him, or they purposefully paid him no mind as he stood in the doorway. They were known to do that on occasion, to see how far Geralt would go just to please them. As they continued chatting over a bottle of wine, Geralt allowed himself to take in the sight.

Jaskier was in one of his usual doublets, the blue one he wore when they met years ago, but had it opened in the front to show off his undershirt. The laces that went up his chest were undone, and Geralt could tell that he just finished a show down in the inn’s main hall. Possibly to pay for the room and the bath. He was positively glowing in the mix of the warm light of the fire and his usual post-show high. Yennefer sat next to him in one of her many black dresses, though this one was different from the one she was wearing when they arrived in the town. It was longer and trimmed with matching black lace. Her shoulders were on proud display as the fire bathed her in radiant light, her pendant ever so slightly gleaming as it caught the firelight. She looked like a painting come to life, a true masterpiece.

Yennefer was the first to acknowledge him. She took a sip of her wine and gracefully turned her head towards him with a smile. “There you are, dear. We were beginning to wonder if you were lost.” Her voice always made him feel a certain way, but especially during nights like these. He shivered slightly. “Dear, have you forgotten how to walk? Come in, join us.”

Her command was tender and wrapped in a fondness that still sometimes surprised Yennefer herself. But it was a command nonetheless, and Geralt slowly moved from the doorway, letting it close behind him. He stood in between the two of them, his back to the fire with his hands clasped together. Geralt still never knew what to do with his hands. His two lovers looked him over, taking stock of how well he cleaned up after his hunt. A blush threatened to form on his cheeks, and Geralt was thankful for the low light in the room. Jaskier took another slow sip of wine from his cup and finally broke the silence.

“Well, what would you like next, love? Your hair certainly needs some tending to, but you must also be quite tired after the day you’ve had.” Both of them knew that Geralt preferred having them speak plainly with him during nights like these. Not that he didn’t enjoy Jaskier’s sarcasm or Yennefer’s teasing, but he knew he was too far down by now to properly comprehend any of it. He just needed guidance. “So, what would you like, my love? Having your hair brushed, or just a place to rest? And remember, we need you to use your words.”

Geralt thought for a moment. Both of them seemed to be just what he needed and more. But in his haze filled mind, he knew he had to choose.

“Brush…” mumbled Geralt. He knew he would have to repeat himself, Yennefer particularly didn’t enjoy mumblers all too well, but words were starting to feel foreign to him as he stood in front of his two finely dressed partners in just his bed clothes.

Just as he thought, Yennefer spoke up. “We need a full sentence from you, dear. And no mumbling.”

The blush Geralt thought he had fought back had started to expand at her admonishment. There wasn’t much venom behind it, but there was enough to make Geralt feel small in front of them. She always did have that kind of power over him.

After a brief second of thinking and trying to form the words properly in his head, Geralt finally spoke, this time trying his hardest not to slur any of his words. “I want Jaskier to… to brush my hair.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was saying them in slow motion, and he was certain that he got it wrong again. But when Jaskier and Yennefer both gave him a soft smile, he realized he had gotten it right.

“Good boy.” Praised Jaskier, gently taking one of Geralt’s hands and leading him closer to the chair. The praise made Geralt almost let out a quiet noise. He knew the two of them enjoyed the noises he sometimes made, but Geralt still felt embarrassed by it.

Jaskier had led Geralt to stand between his legs and was still holding onto his hand. His free hand had found its way to the side of Geralt’s thigh. Jaskier might have been a poet, but he had always preferred physical touch over anything. He was always keen on holding Yennefer’s hand whenever they flitted through a market together or carding his fingers through Geralt’s hair as they watched their campfire slowly burn out.

“Will you fetch your brush for me, sweetheart?” the poet asked, looking up at Geralt with nothing but tenderness in his bright blue eyes. Geralt always felt as if he could stare at them for hours. It took a moment for him to process Jaskier’s request, but he slowly nodded when he realized he was given a task. The brush was never hard to find. Geralt always kept it in the front pocket of his sack, so he would never lose it when he was fully under. It was a simple task, but a task nonetheless, and Geralt enjoyed completing them when he would be praised so much for it.

By the time Geralt had returned to Jaskier’s side, the poet had already placed a pillow down at his feet. Though, even in his haze, Geralt could tell that it was slightly too fine of a pillow to be found at an inn like this. Perhaps Yennefer had conjured it up? Geralt’s mind was too foggy to truly care.

“Good boy.” Preened Jaskier, grounding Geralt back to him. “I need you to kneel on the pillow for me, dear heart, then I can start on your hair. Can you do that for me?” Geralt slowly nodded. Normally, Jaskier or Yennefer would have reminded him to use his words. They wanted clear and full sentences so they knew their wolf was being taken care of properly. But they also could plainly see that Geralt was tired. Witcher stamina could keep him from physically becoming exhausted, but nothing could keep him from feeling the crushing mental exhaustion everyone sadly feels at times.

Kneeling always came easy to Geralt. When they first started, he felt that it was more like meditation. Letting his mind wader and quiet came easy to him after all these years as a Witcher. The challenge came when he was told to let his mind stay in that soft, warm, floaty space he found himself in. It felt... wonderful. But Witchers weren’t allowed such pleasures. Warmth and safety weren’t given to mutants.

Before Jaskier started, Yennefer spoke up again. “Lark. Before you begin, don’t you think we’ve forgotten something?” There was a knowing, mischievous smirk on her face as she took another sip of wine.

Jaskier hummed and started to trace his fingers lightly over the nape of Geralt’s neck. “I believe we might have. Geralt, my love.” He waited for the Witcher to respond to know he was still listening. “Lift up your arms for me. Our dear sorceress would like a nice view to accompany her wine.” Jaskier gave her a teasing look as Geralt hummed his response.

“Darling,” Said Yennefer sternly. “I won’t repeat myself a third time. We need you to use your words. Even a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will do if you find them hard to use.”

Geralt, drifting further and further away, took longer than he’d like to finally find the words he was looking for. The feeling of being at Jaskier’s feet, his fingers tracing shapes along the back of his neck, Yennefer’s watchful gaze, it was all too much and just what he needed at the same time.

“Yes, ma’am…”

Yennefer hummed, delighted at the use of the title. It was one of the first things Geralt had suggested himself, asking if he could call the two of them by sir or ma’am.

“Good boy. Now, arms up for the bard.” Geralt easily followed the command. The slightly cold rush of air against his back was in contrast with the warmth coming from the fireplace. It made him instinctively lean back further to press against Jaskier’s legs trying to find a way to fully warm up. Both Jaskier and Yennefer chuckled slightly at the sight.

When Jaskier finally began brushing the Witcher’s long white hair, Geralt purred at the touch. He had drifted too far to care about the soft noises he made. He heard Jaskier hum as he slowly and gently started to work out the knots in Geralt’s hair. Focusing on the feeling of Jaskier petting and grooming him made it easier for him to fully sink down into this soft space in his mind. It was simple, but Geralt preferred things simple. He knew he felt safe with Yennefer and Jaskier, and he knew that he loved them truly. It was as simple as ever.

The three of them sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Jaskier gently brushing his wolf’s hair, Geralt slowly closing his eyes, and Yennefer watching them both. The poet was the first to break the silence.

“My dove, you’re such a beautiful sight like this.” Yennefer hummed quietly in agreement to herself as Jaskier went on. “Your hair is like starlight in my hands. Seeing your soft, lovely curls wrap around my fingers as I brush them makes me fall in love every time, darling.”

A soft whine bubbled up and escaped Geralt’s lips. The way Jaskier’s praises washed over him as he gently tugged at his hair was too much. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to hear more. He wanted to do anything they asked of him. He wanted to be good.

“Such pretty noises, dearling. All just for us.” Jaskier gently lifted Geralt’s head back and pulled him close, so he was looking up at the bard. He planted a kiss on his lover’s forehead, and Geralt felt himself melting. He mewled at the kiss. He wanted more. He wanted Jaskier to hold him like he was so fragile he could break. He wanted more kisses. He wanted Yennefer too.

As if she knew, Yennefer set down her drink and leaned forward in her chair before speaking up. “Lark. Perhaps it’s time we give our pet a treat?” There was a look in her eyes that spoke volumes. Jaskier caught on quickly.

The poet untangled his hands from the Witcher’s hair and set the brush down on the table next to his cup. Geralt whined again, not wanting the pampering to end, but Jaskier paid no mind to it. He then gently guided Geralt to turn to face him and to rest his head on Jaskier’s knee. Being this close to Jaskier was heavenly for Geralt. He felt surrounded by his poet. He wanted nothing more.

“Sweetness,” Jaskier whispered, as if Geralt was an easily spooked animal. “Yennefer and I found something for you at the market today. Would you like to see it?”

Geralt nodded slightly before remembering again. He didn’t want to upset Yennefer. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Yennefer had a small box in her hands when Geralt could finally focus on her coming closer to him. The two steps it took to reach him felt like an eternity. She leaned against the side of the chair, slightly draping herself on Jaskier. Geralt loved seeing them together like this. All he wanted was his two favorite people. He made a soft hum as Yennefer finally touched him on his cheek. He leaned into the touch and felt her rub his cheek with her thumb.

“Dear,” Said Yennefer, trying to get Geralt’s attention before continuing. “We saw this in town today while you were out.” She pulled her hand back to slowly open the box. Seeing what was in it made Geralt let out a soft whine.

It was a collar. A thick, sturdy leather one. It had a small ring in the front for a lead, and Geralt couldn’t stop staring at it. The three of them had talked about it before. Geralt one night had mustered up enough courage to ask about what Jaskier and Yennefer thought about collars. He should have known they would catch on quickly. Geralt had admitted that he liked being owned by them. The possessive pet names, the touches, the care. All of it felt like he belonged to them. It made him shiver. But when he said that he wanted to try being collared, he never thought he’d have an actual chance to. A rush of excitement briefly ran through him, and he looked up at his two loves pleadingly.

They both looked down at him fondly. One of Jaskier’s hands found its way to Geralt’s cheek and the Witcher instinctively leaned into the touch.

“Geralt.” The use of his name made Geralt come back to himself, slightly. Yennefer had the collar in her hands, but made no move to put it on him. He whined. “I need to know, Geralt, if you want this tonight. If you want something else from us, just say it, and the collar can be brought out another night. But I need you to use your words for us.”

Geralt was lost in thought, but he nodded to show he was listening. Yennefer liked little acknowledgements like that. The part of himself that wanted to be spoiled and owned by his lovers was screaming. Of course he wanted this. The thought of having a collar to show the world that the white wolf was not only tamed, but owned, was too perfect. He wanted it now.

But the rational side of his mind, the one that only came out in nights like these to ruin everything, was fighting as well. He knew it could go wrong. There have been nights where he just couldn’t get into the right headspace and panicked when someone touched him. Those nights were always tough. On everyone. Geralt had to think, as hard as it was at the moment.

“I…” muttered Geralt, having to start over as the words felt like syrup in his mouth. “I want to be collared, ma’am. Please?” 

Yennefer leaned down and kissed him. The angle was awkward, but any touch from Yennefer was more than enough for him. As she pulled back, she smiled and whispered, “Good boy.” before leaning down again to collar her wolf.

The leather felt as thick as it looked, but it wasn’t as heavy as Geralt had thought it would be. The weight came from the silver ring hanging from the center. It was a good weight. He felt grounded, like all that mattered was the weight of this collar on his neck. As Yennefer pulled back to stand up straight again, Jaskier slipped two fingers in between the collar and Geralt’s neck.

“How does that feel, darling?” asked Jaskier. “Not too tight? Do you need me to loosen it at all?” Geralt slowly shook his head no.

“‘S fine… It’s nice…” He knew he was slurring his words, he couldn’t help it. Being collared by Yennefer, Jaskier’s voice, the feeling of being surrounded by them like this. He was surprised he could still speak. He didn’t want to talk though. Geralt felt soft hands card through his hair and cup his cheek, turning his head to face Yennefer. Her violet eyes were filled with tenderness that was always hidden deep within her. She had buried that side of her long before they met, and Geralt always felt his love for her grow whenever she showed it to him. Because they knew they could trust each other.

“Darling. What would you like next? Do you want to stay on Jaskier’s knee?”

Geralt made a low hum as he thought, soaking in all that was happening. “Stay here, ma’am…”

Jaskier gave her a slight smirk before Yennefer shot a glare back at him. It wasn’t too far-fetched for her to punish Jaskier instead of Geralt some nights, so the poet quickly backed off. Geralt didn’t notice it though. He was too wrapped up and surrounded by his lovers. Being this close to them made his mind fill with lilac, gooseberries, buttercups and chamomile. It made his head spin in a way that felt intoxicating.

The sorceress had left Jaskier’s side to retrieve her glass of wine before magically moving the previously forgotten stool closer to Geralt’s side with one fluid hand motion. Jaskier chuckled quietly and lifted what remained of the bottle they were sharing together. Geralt’s mind felt heavy and full as Jaskier’s fingers returned to his hair, stroking it and taking pride in the pampering he was so good at.

“So, Yennefer, what exactly are your plans for the winter? I mean…” Jaskier continued talking with Yennefer, but Geralt couldn’t keep up. He found the words hard to define as the two of them kept chatting with each other as if he wasn’t there. All he could focus on was the way their voices sounded as he closed his eyes. Geralt thought, for a brief moment, that he wished he invited them to Kaer Moren. Going entire winters without these moments together were torture sometimes. Maybe in the morning he’ll offer it to them. Maybe they’ll humor him and stay by his side a little longer.

But now, Geralt just breathed them in, and let himself be theirs for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at sailorspencer on tumblr! I'm always up to talk abt Geralt being pampered and being soft :^)


End file.
